


Nightmare comes to life

by halfjoker



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drabble, M/M, Reichenbach Angst, Translation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-11
Updated: 2014-05-11
Packaged: 2018-01-24 08:51:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1598924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfjoker/pseuds/halfjoker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock's fall as seen through John's eyes</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nightmare comes to life

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Nightmare comes to life](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1342468) by [halfjoker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/halfjoker/pseuds/halfjoker). 



No. Anything but this. I watch in horror how my best friend lifts his arms and turns over the ledge of the roof to cast himself to the ground. He's flying and doesn't even need wings. For a moment he transforms into a giant eagle, which is just hurling headfirst after his prey. But a coat cannot replace this eagle's wings. His sight isn't focused on food, but a pavement. A pavement, which is getting closer and closer too fast. Sherlock waves his legs and arms for a few seconds in a useless attempt at steering his movement. For the last two seconds before landing, he disappears from my sight, a low building covers him, so I don't see how he hits the ground with a crushing force, breaks some of his bones, cracks his head or contuses his inner organs. Probably everything together. I feel as if my pulse stopped, but actually my heart beats as a finger of a telegraphist on a sinking boat, which is desperately sending an SOS signal.

I'm running towards him, I need to fix him, put him together, make sure he'll survive this, and at the same time hold him in my arms and finally tell him what I always wanted. Come on, John, you know there's practically no chance he could survive, my inner voice chuckles. But he's Sherlock Holmes, if there's anyone who can survive this, it's him, I answer myself immediately.

A guy on a bike knocks me down on my way to Sherlock. Yeah, why not. Someone doesn't want me to run to him on time. When I get there, I flinch. I never flinch, I've experienced worse things, but seeing him lying on the pavement with that huge pool of blood underneath him was really too much. There were loads of people standing around. His eyes were still open, he looked scary. His skin was always pale and I thought that he looked like a corpse several times. It wasn't true. He was so much whiter as a corpse. They didn't even let me to him, I could only take his wrist. He didn't have a pulse anymore. I came late. God, no. If you even exist, then why are you playing with me like this? You give me someone I adore and feel good with, and now you take him away? Do I deserve this? What for? For believing in you just when it's convenient to?

We drive to his grave. It's plain, black, with his name engraved in gold. Mrs Hudson leaves me alone after a while and walks away. I want to cry. I, John Hamish Watson, veteran of Afghanistan, have lost someone I could call best friend and I want to cry. I didn't realize how much I miss him until today. He could always amaze me somehow. Helplessly I beg him for a miracle. For one last miracle. To stop this and come back to me. And then, there are things I didn't say aloud. That I liked him. Probably too much.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Avenged Sevenfold's song Nightmare.  
> My tumblr is [here](http://thebritishsoul.tumblr.com).


End file.
